Indiana Jones and the ascention of one
by Devils-Guardian
Summary: Indiana Jones takes on a satanic cult called the Red Dawn who want to bring about the end of the world along the way Indy meets some old friends. This is my first fanfic but be honest with what you think as it will help me decide whether to continue the s
1. Chapter 1

**INDIANA JONES AND THE ASCENTION OF ONE**

**Chapter 1**

A man was standing in a doorway vainly trying to get out of the torrential rain that was falling all around him, although it was long past doing him any good, as the long brown trench coat and beat up fedora hat, he was wearing were so wet that they were actually beginning to let in the rain. Adding insult to injury, the rain was running down his face, his fedora acting as a funnel and to top it all, his shoes were beginning to fill with water and he could hear them squelch, as he shuffled his feet, in an effort to keep warm. His bluey green eyes smouldered with raising anger, as he scanned the street for the black Austin 11 that was supposed to pick him up here almost an hour ago. Glanced down at his watch, he muttered, "_11:30, goddamn it, why do I always do this to myself, agreeing to meet god knows who and why did I agree to meet in such a dumb location, London, in the middle of rainy season, standing out here when I could be warm and dry, sipping a scotch, inside_."

A car came round the corner and entered the alleyway, screeching to a halt opposite the doorway, in which the man was sheltering. The cars passenger right hand side door was opened and a thick set man with slicked back hair and handle bar moustache, wearing a matching black suit and tie, stepped out and spoke with a distinct cockney accent, "_You listen to me, listen good, I don't want no trouble, you don't want to cause me none neither, otherwise,_" indicating the other goon, sitting in the back seat, pointing what the man recognised as a fully loaded and lethal looking gun straight at him, fully intending using it, in the case of none compliance, "_my friend and me will just have to have a little talk with you so be a good lad and get in the car_."

Not wishing to make, what was rapidly turning into a really crappy evening worse, by trying some futile heroics, which would on present evidence, end up with him on a mortuary slap, the man decided discretion was the better part of valour and got in the car. With a smile, the moustachioed good said, "_Well aren't you a good boy, I can see we are going to get on just fine_." Getting in the man slammed the door shut and the car sped off to destinations unknown.

A man wearing a white dinner jacket, a red carnation in the lapel with black trousers, both had damp patches from where the rain had soaked through the trench coat; he had been wearing which was now draped over his right arm and in his hand, an equally wet brown fedora hat. Stood watching the floor indicator lights of the elevator, while with his other hand, absent mind idly rubbing a scar on his chin, picked up as a result of a childhood accident, "_45, 46, What does that bastard, think he is, ordering me about, get off at the top floor, I should have punched him when I had the chance_." The destination floor indicator binged, pulling the man instantly out of his thoughts. The elevator doors opened and before he could open his mouth to ask what exactly the hell was going on, a stern, authoritarian voice spoke "_Dr Jones, I'm Neville Jameson, Director of M16, British intelligence." _Jameson took hold of Indy's right hand and forearm with both of his and gave them a brisk shake_, "I must apologise for my men's methods but it was necessary to get you here, what do you know of a man called Alistair Crowley?_"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to dumbblonde76 for my first ever review. Anyway, here's the second chapter as always be honest with your reviews. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2**

"Please come and sit down," Jameson indicated a brown leather easy chair, opposite a roaring fire, which did look very inviting to Indy, in his present condition, being soaked through, "Please let me get you a drink." Indy crossed the room, his feet squelching as he did so although being far too busy, taking in his surroundings to notice.

One end of the spacious room in which he was now stood, Indy noticed, a large antique desk, with an angle pose lamp on the left hand side of the desk surface, the only source of lighting apart from the fire in the room, showed Indy that the desk was piled high with papers and reference books, obviously from the dimly illuminated filing cabinets arranged along the wall with many, having open draws. On the opposite wall to the filling cabinets, there was a large bookcase, even in the poor light, missing several volumes, "_obviously some bodies office, seen a lot of use lately too_," Indy thought.

The other end of the room was completely different; it reminded Indy of old British Gentleman's Club with a picture of Queen Elizabeth II above the fireplace, providing a flickering red glow to the seating area, Indy could just make out, a large green leather sofa at the far end of the room, various mounted heads of African game, the firelight flickering in their glass bead eyes, giving them the illusion of prenatural life which unnerved Indy, above that. As well as weapons, presumably used to despatch the animals that glared down at him, the dark oak panelling and floor only reinforced this impression. "_Damn it_," Indy muttered to himself as he sat down, he had not found any escape routes, "_there's always the lift but his goons were bound to be guarding that one_," Indy thought. Looking for escape routes was a habit he picked up long ago and not one he was not going to relax just because some bozo said he was MI6. Besides situations always seemed to turn nasty fast whenever he was involved, hence the need for hasty exits, usually carrying some priceless historic artefact closely followed by the irate previous owner and several paid heavies. "_Scotch and Water, OK with you, Dr Jones?" _Jameson said, pulling out of thoughts, "_oh, fine thanks _" Indy hadn't noticed Jameson approach being so absorbed in his own thoughts but he was now standing in front of him, holding a drink out to him. Handing the drink to Indy, he took the seat opposite and raised his glass, saying "_all the best, old chap_," before in one swift movement, downing the entire contents. Noticing the grimace as the alcohol hit his stomach, Indy was confused, and thought to himself, "_Nobody drinks like that, unless they have some major problems and by the look of this guy, he has obviously something to do with why I'm here."_

Having taken a closer look at the man which was near impossible previously because of the poor lighting, Indy could tell that this man possibly no more than 40, dressed in tweed, with tussled blonde hair, paling complexion, with obvious signs of strain on his face was not the man he once was and possibly would never be again. Indy simply raised his arm and returned the toast, "Your good health," and drank half his drink and grimaced as he felt it burn as it ran down his throat and placed the glass on the table that was between the two chairs.

Indy noticed that Jameson, demeanour completely change from the completely pleasant English gent back to the stern, authoritarian persona that would scare the bijous out of his MI6 subordinates when he spoke again, "_Now, Dr Jones, back to the business at hand, what do you know of a certain Mr Crowley?_" "_Occult theory and doctrine, not exactly my field, I'm an archaeologist, sorry_," Indy smiles and with a shrug of his shoulders continues, "_but if you insist, I do know this, he was a member of the occult society Golden Dawn until he fell out with Arthur Edward Waite. So he broke off and came with his own religious dogma and some time later founded the Abbey of Thelema, dedicated to the personal pleasures of its inhabitants. In 1922, Crowley and some of his followers, in a Paris Hotel, allegedly tried to summon up via occult means the physical presence of the devil, himself. Whether he succeeded isn't known but only he was supposedly left alive, after the experience although he never spoke of it. But all I know is based purely on speculation and hearsay and besides he's been dead for over 3 years." _

After Indy had finished Jameson, "_Quite so, Dr Jones, but you do have the uncanny ability of getting mixed up in the occult," firstly the Thuggi revival involving the shankara stones, then the Arc of the Covenant._

Jameson noticed the look of shock on Indy's face and continued with a smile, "_don't be look so surprised, Dr Jones, my American brethren informed me of its existence soon after it was found, they were going to use it to deal with the Nazi threat, so of course, our government was informed. However it was deemed far too dangerous and finally the cup of Christ, the world owes you a debt of thanks for that one, imagine an immortal Megalomaniac in Buckingham Palace, his goose stepping morons marching all over Pall Mall, unthinkable._" Jameson body shuddered for a second, possibly imagining that exact thing, "_My point being that you are the only man for the job. You know that higher things do exist and would be far better prepared for what you might encounter than say one of my agents. Tell me do you know what the sublimitas of oriens astrum is, in eng..."_

Jameson never got finish his sentence as put up his hand and said, "_I know what it means, before I was six, I knew five languages, including ancient Greek and in this case Latin, it means elevation of the morning star." _Indy broke off suddenly rubbing his temples, realizing the implication of Jameson was saying "_Christ, it been a long day, so your saying that someone has found the manuscript containing instructions on how to bring about apocalypse and Satan's 1000 year reign on earth. Supposedly written in his own blood by a mad monk in the 6th century when under demonic possession, discovered by the Knights Templar and kept in their trust until it was finally lost during the first Crusades, I always thought it was a myth." _

The colour drained from his face and Jameson poured him another drink, "_here I think you need this_", Indy took the drink and drank it down without even the slightest grimace as the liquid burned his throat as Jameson had done early, now he knew why. _ "No myth, I'm afraid, old chap, I received word from Intelligence contacts in Israel a few days ago, that some people calling themselves, the Red Dawn, a break away faction of Crowley's Thelema sect, had unearthed a crypt where they found a body of Knight of the order of the Templar. Who it seems was the guardian of the oriens astrum, who died and it was buried with him, his brethren apparently believed it would be safe with the dead. Unfortunately, for the world, they were wrong and this sect is trying to release the Dark Lord from his prison. But luckily for us, they don't have all the necessary, they have not as yet found the dagger of the serpent to be used in the sacrifice of a female virgin, on the 7th day of the 7th weeks. Which happily for the poor unfortunate young lady and us is a full three months away at the stroke of midnight. Hopefully ample time, for you to find the dagger of the serpent and prevent this atrocity from happening, now do you see why I brought you here?" _

Indy sat forward in his chair and with his head in his hands, sat staring at the flames, his faces painted with red, yellow, orange light given off by the fire, taking the enormity of the task that lay before him after several minutes, he spoke, never taking his eyes from the flames, his voice, suddenly feeble as if the evening misadventures had finally caught up with him_ "I guess I don't have a chose do I? When do I leave? _


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again thanks to dumbblonde76 for the review. I know these chapters are short, apologises but thats just the way, I work and a bit actionless sorry about that, just trying to set the scene, will get better, I promise. As always be honest and enjoy.**

**Chapter 3**

A twin prop aeroplane was coming into land at the dirt strip that served as a runway for the Atarot Airport; its wheels touched down, causing plums of clay red dust to billow up below the undercarriage, before briefly taking to the air again, with a violent jolt landed again and taxi to a stop.

The passenger side door flew open and a man wearing what would have once been a white dinner jacket, with black trousers, both now most definitely past what might be considered best, stained as they were with what most have been several miles of hard road.

On what appeared to be very shaky legs got out and made as if he was going get down on his knees and kiss the earth but instead bent double and proceeded to violently vomited, the little he had eaten over the last twenty four hours.

When he had finished, the man turned back to open passenger door and said to the pilot who was watching this scene with some amusement, "_JESUS, Buddy, where'd you learn to fly the kamikaze school of flying, I've been on some rides but that was by far the worst!_" Instead of answering the pilot simply, threw a brown canvas holdall bag out of the plane, leant over, closing the passenger door and with a smile executed a smart military style salute.

The engines of the plane, then spluttered, backfiring and expelling a cloud of filthy smelling black smoke from the exhaust, the rotor blades turned and then the engine died. Again, with a splutter, a final loud backfire, the engines burst into life, propelling it at great speed down the runway, while at the same time covering its previous passenger in a thick layer of the runway dirt "BASTARD," the man shouted at nothing in particular, as the plane was now nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Being too busy brushing himself down, while thinking, "What was the bloody point, he looked a goddamned mess anyway." While simultaneously, trying to keep himself from chocking on the clouds of dusts that billowed up each time, he patted himself, he did not notice the man who rush to his side and picked up his holdall from where it had been thrown. "_By Allah, Indy, you do look a mess._"

Indy turned in the direction the vaguely familiar voice and after rubbing runaway dust from his eyes, which were now blood shot, tears were streaming down his cheeks; he could make out the imposing presence at six feet two and over 250 pounds of his old friend, Selah. Although it had been over six years since there last adventure together, the years had been kind, apart from two streaks of silver at the temples, specks of grey in his beard and a few new wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. "But who hasn't," Indy reflection, with each passing day, he seemed to notice a new wrinkle or grey hair.

Indy hugged his friend, smiling "_Sallah, its good to see you, I really can't stop and talk, someone's expecting me_." Suddenly and much to Indy's surprise, Salllah let out a great bellow of laughter. While also taking Indy by the shoulders, spinning him around to face him, he said, "_Indy, my friend, I am your contact, a man, Jameson, I believe, sent you here on a very important mission and I was assigned to you by my organisation as guide, friend and protector, just like old times, uh Indy_?"

Walking away from where his friend stood, Indy stood in silence for several minutes, deep in thought, occasional running his hand through his hair or kicking a small rock. Until finally returning to where Sallah still stood nervously played with the fez he had been wearing, crushing and twisting it in his bear like hands whilst looking at his feet, like some naughty child who knows he has done something wrong, "_So you're a secret agent?_" Sallah realizing that he was being spoken to, very slowly lifted his head and looked at Indy, "_I'm afraid so, my friend, I was recruited to watch and report back on the Nazi's search for the Ark, as well reporting on your movements. By Allah, Indy, I, I did not like it and I would have told you if I could but the secrecy was necessary, I'm sorry, Indy." _Smiling Indy clapped his friend on the back and said_ "Sallah, you have nothing to apologise for, explains how Jameson knew so much about me, that's get out of here before we become road kill." _

Suddenly if not before realizing where he was, the dot on the horizon coming in for a landing, convinced Sallah of the sense of that suggestion, with a discernable level of anxiety in his voice_, "_ _Indeed, come Indy, quickly I have transportation waiting", _indicating a jeep parked just beyond the runway.


End file.
